


mydriasis

by singlemalter



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mirror Sex, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:04:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/pseuds/singlemalter
Summary: I look at myself, and I think, girlfriend, I am looking at the man of my dreams.





	mydriasis

Watching himself is the only thing that can truly bring Charles to the edge. It feels good to have a cock slowly slide into him, but it’s nothing compared to the frisson of seeing his hair fly into his face as he gets fucked harder, sweaty strands clinging to his forehead.

Sex is an art, and he’s worked hard to be the prima ballerina. All eyes on him, now, for the most beautiful of pas-de-deux acts.

The boy in the mirror is downright sexy with his gorgeous blue-green irises and dilated pupils, exuding the kind of charm only a sprightly prodigy can master. The eyeliner makes him look somber, like he hasn’t slept in a thousand long nights. It’s pretty. He’s pretty.

Charles struggles to keep his head up, the constant thrusts throwing his body back and forth like a lifeless doll, yet he relishes the dull ache in his muscles. Yes, this is what he wants, this is what he _needs_, and he smiles at himself, perfect lips over perfect teeth. 

“Come on, I want more,” Charles says, focused not on the man on top of him but on the way the light cuts up his body. Chest, arm, ivory neck, mouth dreaming in sweetness.

He gets what he wants, he always does, no one can deny him anything when he’s beautiful enough to be entranced by his own image. Charles’ orgasm takes his breath away—it always does when it’s like this, white-hot and self-indulgent, painted in Waterhouse’s smooth strokes.

“Oh, fuck,” he cries out, arching his back, spilling come on the pristine carpet. “Fuck, _Max_.”

Behind him, Pierre comes, too, and doesn’t mention Charles’ slip.

Afterwards, Charles stands alone in the room, staring at his reflection, and there is no flower golden and white to replace him.

**Author's Note:**

> Summary from a modern adaptation of Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_, from which I also took some excerpts. Like _mouth dreaming in sweetness_. Man, I love that line.
> 
> Waterhouse as in the painter of _Echo and Narcissus_, 1903.
> 
> singlemalter on Tumblr.


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